Nothing Will Hurt You Again
by WerewolfDoctor
Summary: A/U. When Raven's baby brother, panicked and alone, comes to stay at her apartment Raven's reluctant best friend, Erik, finds himself more involved than he ever thought possible. Charles/Erik.
1. Chapter 1

A/N – Just to clarify because I'm not sure it's completely clear in the story - Raven is Charles older sister and not adopted.

Oh, and I know Charles is fairly OOC in this chapter, but the reasons for that will become clear and, rest assured, Charles will recover.

…

Timing, Erik knew, was the major reason for his and Raven's friendship. He had (finally) finished his Roaring Rampage of Revenge (Raven's name) with the very long, painful death of Herr Doktor. Erik had found himself not quite sure what to do with his life and had somehow ended up renting an apartment that he was sure was far out of his price range. There may have been drink involved in that particular decision.

Raven had been renting the apartment next door.

They had ended up bonding (OK, maybe bonding was a bit of a strong word) over the fact they both had no idea what to do with their life and they both happened to be mutants. Drink had definitely been involved.

Raven hadn't given him much choice in the matter of whether they were friends or not.

Drink had also been involved when Erik had persuaded Raven to go out all blue. As much as she wanted to go all 'mutant and proud' that fact was she had scared the hell out of one guy who was definitely high on something. Perhaps a number of things. And who had charged at her claiming she was an evil witch from some video game. They also managed to not get one drink in the whole night when Raven was blue. They agreed she wouldn't go all blue again.

Drink hadn't been involved when had that one time decided to date. Drink was always involved when either of them ever remembered it because it had been a major mistake which they Did Not Talk About because dating had been just plain weird.

Which was how Raven came to be sitting at his kitchen table looking nervous.

"Erik, you remember me telling you about my baby brother, right?"

Erik dug around through all the things Raven had told him. She was used to him forgetting what she had told him, after all, she talked a lot, but she expected him to remember the important stuff and it seemed like her brother was one of the things she expected him to remember.

"The telepath, right?"

"Charles," she said, almost severe. "His name is Charles."

OK. Sore spot, hit. He could understand being sore about people classifying them only through their mutations, but this seemed particularly sore. He inclined his head for Raven to continue.

"OK. The thing is, well, oh, I suppose I better start at the beginning. Charles is going to kill me for telling you. Our stepfather, to put it bluntly, experimented on Charles. On his telepathy." Erik sat ramrod straight. It sounded like … Raven noticed and nodded, "Yeah, exactly. I tried to look after him the best I could, but there was really nothing I could do, only try to look after him afterwards. I could hardly protect him and Charles couldn't do anything because Marko had developed this sort of telepathy blocker. Pretty much unnoticeable and he wore it all the time. He'd started work on it pretty much as soon as he got his hands on Charles, so Charles could never resist. And Mother … Mother would never hear a work against Marko, even when she knew he had only married her for her money. I suppose he manipulated her completely as well. Then … then there was the fire in the lab. Charles escaped but Marko didn't. We didn't look into it, we just thought good riddance and Charles was finally able to try and have a life. The thing is Charles saw Marko just this morning. I know Charles, he doesn't make that kind of mistake. That means Marko's alive and he faked his own death. We don't know why and we don't know what he's after. Charles is terrified and so he's going to be staying with me for a bit."

Raven hesitated before she looked Erik straight in the eyes. "A few things. Right now Charles is going into all out panic. Sometimes when he's majorly panicked or upset he has a tendency to communicate with just his mind. I'm used to it, but you aren't. Please try not to let it freak you out too much. Also," she really did look nervous now, "I know you're not exactly a therapy kinda guy, but I thought, you might … understand." He nodded once, "Oh, and Erik? I know you're not really in the revenge business any more, but if you happen to see Marko…"

He nodded again.

…

If Erik hadn't been thinking of killing Marko before, he was now. He had entered Raven's apartment only to find the most adorable little mess shivering on the sofa, looking like a rabbit caught it the headlights.

"Erik," he said, walking over and holding his hand out, resolutely ignoring the fact that the other man was clearly terrified.

"Charles – uh Raven told me about you."

"Likewise." Charles seemed to suddenly find the floor fascinating.

"Everything?" Charles was fiddling with his sleeves, tearing the shirt apart, thread by thread.

"Yeah. Sorry." Charles' sense of shame seemed to only increase. Obviously 'sorry' was the wrong thing to say. Did Charles think Erik was blaming him or something? Erik panicked whilst desperately trying not to show he was panicking. This was obviously supposed to be the bit that he talked to Charles. He wasn't cut out for the talking, comforting thing, "Hey, look. It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know."

"Isn't it?" Plaintive. That was the word. And Erik understood, though he didn't know what to say. The feeling that you had let this happen that it was somehow your fault. He understood. Erik had translated everything, the grief, the pain and the shame into anger, but he could never entirely ignore it.

"No – I – look, I understand," disbelief radiated off Charles. _Telepathic,_ Erik reminded himself, before wondering if Charles had actually spoken during their 'conversation'. He didn't think so. Raven had said this would happen. Well then, Erik was going to show him what it was like _not_ to be ashamed. He rolled up his sleeve and showed Charles his tattoo, the numbers he had never shown anyone willingly, "I'm like you. You're not alone. I'll let you see everything, if you like." Erik tried to sound sure, but he couldn't help trembling. He was going to show someone his darkest memories in the hope that it would help. He wondered if he was mad.

_Disbeliefamazementwonder_ flooded Erik's mind and Charles nodded hesitantly before putting his fingers to Erik's temple.

_The camps. The endless camps. His family being ripped away. The gates._

_Herr Doktor. Klaus Schmidt. Sebastian Shaw. The name changed, the hatred stayed._

_The coin. He couldn't move the coin. Count to three. Eins. Desperation. Just a little coin. Zwei. Alles ist gut. Alles ist gut. Drei. _

_MAMA!_

_The experiments. All of them. The wires and the knives and the pain. The expression of benign interest on his torturer's face._

_Shall we play a game, Little Erik?_

_He hated the 'games' most of all._

_Then … the ending of the camps. The search. A thousand Nazis killed but never the one he hated the most. Until, finally_

_Revenge._

_And it tasted so sweet._

"Oh, _Erik,_" it took a moment for Erik to realise that Charles was speaking to him. Actually speaking, with his voice, not his mind. It took another moment for Erik to realise what Charles _meant_.

"Charles, what I went through doesn't diminish the things you went through at all. And we'll fix this, I promise."

"But I'm not a fighter. Not like you. And I can't hide here forever."

"I think you are much more of a fighter than you think you are. But if not? Well, you've seen me fight."

Later Erik would wonder when he had started to care about Charles' welfare. He didn't generally do 'emotional involvement' after all. Then he realised he had started caring even before he met Charles, when Raven had told him about Charles' suffering under Marko, and he had been angry, because it had been similar to his with Shaw.

Erik had very few things that he felt truly protective of in his life, and now, without even Erik really noticing, Charles has become one of those things.

…

A/N – How's that for an opening chapter? C'mon, please tell me. I know it's a bit short but meh, it will develop.

So yeah, at the moment Erik is just feeling very protective towards Charles and nothing more, but that will change as Charles begins to recover and becomes more like the Charles we know.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N – Just a few notes on the setting due to the inevitable mistakes I'll make due to the fact I neither live in America (I'm English) and I didn't live through the 1960s, so I don't know much about how people would've lived, technology available etc. In this A/U the Cuban Missile Crisis was somewhat milder since Erik killed Shaw before he could really make the situation much worse. There's also the situation of the legality of Homosexuality. In the 1960s it probably wouldn't have been legal, I'm changing this so it would have been legal but massively prejudiced against it (Hey, it's my A/U, I can do what I want.)

So yeah. Basically, please forgive any time period mistakes and just enjoy the story.

…

Erik's main job, unsurprisingly, was tracking Marko down, but, as Erik found very quickly, Marko seemed particularly immune to being tracked. Whether it had been a skill Marko had acquired before or after he had faked his own death Erik didn't know. And he still didn't know _why_ Marko had faked his own death. Frustrating didn't begin to cover it.

One thing Erik was certain of was that Marko was still interested in mutants. Marko's 'discreet research' showed that much, although whether Marko was still interested in telepaths, and one telepath in particular, Erik didn't know. In the end he supposed it didn't matter much. Marko was going to be eliminated one way or the other.

In a way he was back to what he knew – pursuit, murder and revenge, except it was wildly different because this wasn't the all-consuming revenge he had known. This was protection and not one bit of it was for his own gain.

Well, apart from the fact that he was rapidly becoming interested in the well being of one Charles Xavier.

…

Raven's apartment had always been a minefield of different things she had collected over the years shoved into a relatively small space. Erik entered, prepared to give his 'report' before collapsing in his own apartment when he saw Charles curled up on the battered leather armchair engrossed in a book.

"Shaw had a telepath," Erik said from the doorway and Charles uncurled to look at him.

"Really?"

"Yeah. You wouldn't have liked her though. I'm not sure what her motivations were but she was with Shaw purely for her own gain and she definitely didn't have your morals. I just thought you might like to know…" _know that you're not alone. That there're not just other mutants out there but other telepaths too. People who might just understand what it's like to hear another mind_.

"Thanks, I guess. And thanks for, you know, the whole … Marko thing."

"You don't have to thank me. Ki-beating shits like Marko has always been a pleasure. But you're welcome anyway." Erik leaned against the door, "I expect payment for my troubles."

"I'll pay you double, if it be in my power to do so."

Erik laughed, "I would do this deed for free, but I am but a poor man, and need my payment."

"Nay, I say you are a great man, and a great friend."

"Friend?"

Raven entered, signalling it was time to make his 'report'. Erik told them both everything, his observations and theories and every last scrap of information he had. Erik glanced at Charles every now and again to see if he was all right and he saw with a grim satisfaction that Charles had gone into what Raven had termed his 'Scholar Mode'. Charles was taking in all the information and analysing it piece by piece, not letting his emotions come into play.

Erik knew Raven worried about Charles cutting off his emotions as a coping method, especially as Charles was normally such an expressive person, but Erik could understand. During his hunt for Shaw the emotion had kept him driven, but he also had to separate himself from what he did and the events that surrounded him.

It would probably cause him deep-rooted psychological issues later in life, or whatever shit shrinks came up with, but everybody had deep-rooted psychological issues really. Some people's were just worse than others.

Erik collapsed in his apartment and groaned because there was still one thing he had left to do. He had to call his Father.

His Father had been kept alive in the camps, held over his head as insurance for good behaviour. He didn't need some shrink to tell him that some desperately buried part of him resented his Father for that on some level. If he had been allowed just that bit more freedom…

Erik sometimes wondered if his Father blamed him for his Mother's death just as much as he did. He had never asked. He really didn't want to know the truth.

But the thing that had separated them the most was Erik's quest for revenge. His Father had wanted to keep him home, safe, whereas Erik could not conceive an existence where he just let his Mother's murder lie and couldn't understand why his Father was willing to do so. Now, after Shaw's death, he could understand his Father's desire to see him safe just a little more and they had grown that little bit closer.

And now Erik had to tell him that he was once again the soldier.

Technically, he didn't need his Father's approval. He would do it whether his Father approved or not, the only problem was, he _needed_ his Father's approval. He needed his Father to be safe and happy, to not have to constantly worry over his only son.

Besides, this was protection, not revenge. His Father couldn't complain about that.

Erik picked up the phone and easily slipped back into German.

…

"Charles, you need to sleep."

"Shh, Raven, I'm busy."

"You can read the damn thesis in the morning, now come on."

Charles reluctantly shifted himself from the sofa and loped to his designated room, sticking his tongue out to Raven on the way. Raven stuck out her tongue back. It was almost too easy to revert to how they had been as children.

She had always been protective of her baby brother, of course. Charles had always been too clever, and too moral for his own good. When the kids in the playground had called him names, he had outwitted them easily, leaving them stumbling like fish. So they had to prove their superiority in other ways, and Charles refused to use his telepathy on them. So that meant when Charles returned home with a black eye and missing bag (and of course he was more worried about the missing bag – it had his work in) Raven had to go and give them broken bones and interesting bruises – her mutation came in useful when it came to fighting. Charles tried to disapprove but he couldn't really, even as he had to hide the bruises he got from Marko.

Raven hated Marko for many things and in many ways, but especially the powerlessness he made her feel.

Not that it was always Raven looking after Charles. Charles was equally protective of her. Once, he had managed to convince Marko, even without being able to use his telepathy, that Marko didn't need to 'investigate' Raven.

Charles was the one who made sure they knew they had a family – it was each other. The parents didn't come into it. Sometimes the friends they made, especially the maids who they saw daily, did.

And now Charles was at her apartment. Raven was glad to see that he was, slowly, getting better. The thing that Raven was confused about was that a large part of this was due to Erik. Charles and Erik were unlikely friends in normal circumstances, but perhaps it was precisely because they weren't in normal circumstances that they had become so close.

…

The next time Erik saw Charles he was surrounded by papers and books all covered in Charles' distinctive scribblings. It always amused Erik at how absorbed in his work Charles could become, and at how passionate he became about if he started talking about it (usually avoided because Erik could never understand a word he was saying.)

"I've been thinking about this ever since you told me Shaw had a telepath. Each mutation is unique, of course, but telepathy is particularly interesting. Nobody understands how the brain works and I thought if we could possibly pinpoint what causes and affects telepathy we could understand the science of the brain and how the brain works to a level that perhaps has never been reached before."

It was ridiculous how much the boy (man, he was only a two years younger than Raven, and only a few more years younger than himself, Erik reminded himself) simply _beamed_.

_Dear the World. We have solved the energy problem. Simply harness the energy Charles Xavier uses to bounce around endlessly._

_But don't hurt Charles. Or else._

"You said 'we' could figure it out. Don't you mean 'you?'"

"I meant … we. You know, all of us."

And damn the man, he looked hurt. Erik was pretty sure he had been complimenting him, hadn't he?

"OK, then, tell me all about it. In words I can understand."

"OK. Dumbing down … now," said Charles, pretending to adjust the controls on his head. "Well, in trying to figure this all out, I do, admittedly, have somewhat of an advantage since I _am_ a telepath and so therefore know how a telepath's mind works, or at least my version of a telepathic mind. All minds are obviously unique. I don't know how a non-telepath's mind works, however…"

Erik sat by Charles, who seemed to have included him in his research about telepathic v non-telepathic minds, and smiled slightly as he listened to Charles talk. Perhaps this was how normal people felt when they were at peace. Approximately.

Eventually Charles ran out of steam and leaned back.

"Erik, do you play chess?"

"Haven't in years, but I know the rules. Why?"

"Raven doesn't play and I've been dying for a game."

Erik glanced out the window. It would be pitch black if it weren't for the lights of the city "It's one in the morning, Charles."

"And?"

"I've got to work tomorrow. You know that."

"Afterwards, then?"

"It's a deal."

"Sleep then. I'll be here."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N – I don't like to beg for reviews, and I'm not going to do anything like hold chapters to ransom if I don't get reviews – I write because I love writing. But I also love hearing what people think of my stories even if you're just reviewing to say something I did wrong and think I could improve on, or just giving a little comment that you like it.

…

The game of chess that Erik had promised Charles was forgotten the next day when Erik returned covered in cuts and bruises. Charles jumped up and started fussing all over him as Charles practically guided him to the sofa. Erik considered giving in and allowing himself to enjoy it, he didn't think he'd been fussed over this much in his life. Well, his Mama might have, but those memories existed in the shining, impossible place before the camps, like a dream. She'd fussed over him in the camps, of course, but that was all pain and panic and nothing bright.

He would enjoy this for the moment, just as long as Charles didn't know about his ribs.

"Erik! Your ribs!"

Right. Telepathic.

"They're not broken Charles, just bruised. I checked."

"They still hurt though?"

"Like a …"

"You don't need to hold back on the swearing around me, I'm not a child."

"Of course you're not." The problem was that Charles had become _his_ to look after. And somehow that translated into not swearing around him, as well as killing the man who had ever dared to hurt him.

"I can probably take the pain away," and if it hadn't been for the thoughtful, genuinely wondering how to reduce Erik's pain, way Charles had said it, it could have been heard as a massive come on. Erik wondered if Charles knew, then decided he definitely did. The man was not a child, after all. And it was better for his sanity to think that Charles knew. Or maybe worse, Erik wasn't entirely sure.

"How … how could you do that?"

"Well, all pain is, is the nerves sending messages to the brain. If I stopped the messages temporarily, you wouldn't feel the pain. You'd still have to careful of course, you would be numb, not healed."

"And it would be temporary? Because if I could never feel my chest or anything again, that would be shit."

"Oh, yes, entirely temporary. So that's a yes, then?"

"Yes."

"Right, I need you to relax as much as you can." Charles placed his fingers on Erik's forehead, "Helps me focus," he said to Erik's inquisitive look, "aaaaaand done!" he said, taking his fingers away. "How's that?"

"Well, numb."

"Good." Charles said, then with a playful smirk, "I believe you promised me a game of chess,"

"That I did," Erik could only smile as Charles jumped up to get the chess set, ordering Erik to remain sitting still as he did so, and set all the pieces.

They alternated between playing black or white each game. Charles had a tendency to veer wildly between offensive, defensive and just-plain-insane tactics throughout each game. Whilst in any other chess player this would seem to be a sign of a beginner, playing move by move without a whole game strategy, Charles made it work. He calculated each possible move and response at lightening speed, forcing Erik to constantly change his tactics in order to keep up, something that easily won Charles the first few games until Erik devised some counter tactics of his own.

Eventually they stumbled to their respective beds and Charles muttered, already half asleep, "Thanks. B-best conver-versation in ages. And chess. Good chess."

"Likewise." Erik said, but he wasn't sure that Charles had heard him as he fell into bed. Erik stood for a moment before turning to leave the apartment, to his own bed. His ribs were beginning to hurt again which probably meant that Charles' lack consciousness affected the effectiveness of his mind trick? If so that made it all the more impressive – that Charles could continuously keep his ribs numb whilst playing chess and keeping up an excellent conversation.

…

"I never asked, my friend, what is it you do for a living? That is, if you don't mind saying."

It was three in the afternoon and Charles was dressed in a sheet. Just a sheet. He hadn't even worn it toga style, or anything even remotely logical, just wrapped it around him like a blanket. Erik was used Charles sometimes extreme laziness and the type of habits that he knew came from living alone, but he thought that this was going a bit far. He didn't answer.

"Erik? Sorry, I shouldn't have pried."

And only Charles would worry whether asking what somebody's job was offensive. It was annoying and endearing. Erik wondered if things that normally would've just annoyed him becoming endearing was a sign of oncoming insanity. Or rather, existing insanity.

"No, it's all right. My mind was elsewhere for a moment. I'm an … oddjob man, of sorts. Fixing wiring, that sort of thing. Metal – obviously, my speciality. I've even been known to make a few metal figurines if I'm in the mood. They're good, they sold for a nice price. I've played bodyguard a few times, I'm good at that as well, but most of the time it's too much like being dependant on somebody. Having a boss, I guess. It's a bit ridiculous, but I like being charge of my own life."

"It's not ridiculous, it's a very human reaction, and I understand completely."

"Do you?"

"Yes." He forgot, occasionally, with Charles being so much more in control and less the frightened mouse that Charles had been through so much as well. That he had been in the same position of a complete, terrifying lack of control and he had come through it. He had had to. The angry fire that had been dying down, ironically because he had been spending more time with Charles, began to rise up again.

"Don't, please. I like you so much better when you're calm."

"Very well then, let's talk about something else. Raven tells me you can be quite wild and rather undiscriminating with who you sleep with," Erik smirked as Charles flushed.

"Raven should hold her tongue, but if that is what you want to talk about. I come from a long line of very distinguished alcoholics, so _those_ particular habits were formed young, as I'm sure Raven can tell you. As for who I sleep with; what I'm always attracted to most is the mind, I suppose it goes hand in hand with my telepathy. I can't exactly say what would be attractive in a mind to someone who can't feel minds. It would be like trying to explain to a blind man what the world looks like. But it's like, some minds snap and bite, some minds are just cold, some are warm and welcoming, some are driven and passionate, some have deep entrenched complexity. In fact all minds do, the complexity, I mean. Each mind has it's own, unique feel, unsurprisingly. The feeling of the mind doesn't always correlate with the personality of the person, but often does, obviously."

"So it isn't physical attractiveness? And you'll either be pleased or horrified to know that Raven talked about her little brother a great deal before … this."

"I'll stick with mildly flattered and try not to get her to talk about me again, which is patently impossible, but I try. As for the other, physical attractiveness obviously plays a large part, it's not all cerebral. I'm a normal, functioning man, after all. The fact that I have no preference between men and women … that could either be attributed to my telepathy and my interest in minds, or I was just plain born bisexual. The fact that I am physically attracted to both would suggest the latter, but there's really no way of telling," he shrugged, "personally I don't think it's that important a question."

"So. How do you like my mind, Charles?" Erik before he could stop himself. And really, was he flirting? Because that sounded like flirting. He was just asking because with telepathy. And Charles. Well, it was a package deal, Charles and telepathy.

"Your mind, like I said it's hard to explain. It's like the most intricate, fascinating puzzle, made out of the finest shining steel, all protecting the fire at the centre," he said, almost reverently, then gulped, "I like it."

Erik wasn't sure how they had got to this point but he knew, at that point, he could've leant over to kiss Charles and Charles would've reciprocated, but as he pulled his mind (and libido) back for a second he hesitated. It wasn't that he didn't believe Charles couldn't make his own decisions. Charles hadn't meant the conversation to lead to flirting, be had certainly been aware and not exactly been objecting when it did.

But Charles was unsure, he could see it. Erik wasn't a telepath but he was good at reading people and he knew that, at that moment Charles wasn't sure whether he wanted Erik because he was _Erik_ or because he was the handsome, charismatic protector.

And Erik wasn't sure either, because Charles had become _his_ to protect. Erik hadn't had many people (or possessions) to protect in his lifetime, but he had lost every one of them, so when Charles had become on of those few things he truly cared about, one of those that needed protecting, Erik's desire to protect had become overwhelming. To have every part of Charles. Erik knew enough about himself to know that if he started now it would only lead to obsession, and obsession did not a good relationship make. Besides, he had moved from not wanting to swear in front of Charles to wanting to sleep with him in the space of a day. He needed to get his head together.

"You're still just wearing your bloody sheet, aren't you cold?" Erik said, motioning to the still sheet covered body, bringing an end to their strange semi flirtation.

"Now that you mention it," Charles left the room, hopefully to get some real clothes on.

Because they both cared too much about this, whatever _this_ was, to move forward at that moment.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N – Sorry for the delay in updating, but yay! Final chapter. Now I actually have to go back to the essays and assignments that I have to hand in very shortly. Maybe I should actually stop procrastinating…

Anyway, enjoy.

…

It was over. Kurt Marko was dead and he would be staying dead this time.

It was over.

The thought brought a pang of sadness that Erik didn't dare examine. Why should he want it to be anything but over?

Erik entered the apartment, just like he had all those other times, but perhaps there was something different in his expression, or perhaps Charles was reading his mind (though he doubted it, Charles usually respected his privacy, unless he was 'shouting' as Charles put it) but Charles just looked up, not even asking and Erik said, "Yes, My Maus, it's over."

Charles took a moment to process what he had said, "_Maus?_ You're calling me your mouse? I'm not a mouse."

"It's affectionate. You should take it as a complement."

"All right then, Sharky boy. And … it's really over?"

"Yes Maus, it's really over."

…

Charles was going back to his own apartment. Going _home_ as Charles himself had said. Erik was not watching Charles pack his bags, he was sitting in his own apartment feeling ridiculously like a teenage girl. It shouldn't be this difficult to ask the man who had become his friend for a phone number, for some way to keep in touch, yet here he was, sitting and not doing anything.

Thankfully for Erik after about an hour or so of moping (not that he would ever admit to _moping_) there was a small knocking at the door which revealed one Charles Xavier.

"Hi. I just came to say goodbye and perhaps … well, we are friends, aren't we?"

"Course we are. Do you want to come in, get a drink?"

Charles grinned, stepping in, his eyes devouring every surface. It occurred then to Erik that Charles had never been inside his apartment before. Knowing Charles he would be examining every item and fitting them to his personality.

"So what do you make of the humble abode?" Erik said, teasing.

"It suits you."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Oh, good. Definitely good."

…

His eyes were brighter, Erik decided. His eyes were brighter, livlier. Bluer, if there ever was such a thing. He wouldn't normally give in to something that was so helplessly poetic and not really factually true, but with Charles it might be. He was a telepath, it wouldn't be out of the realms of possibility that his mental state could directly affect his appearance.

All this theorising was an attempt to distract himself from the painfully obvious – Charles was refusing to look at him. He would skim round the edges all the while making bright conversation. He wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been looking for it.

Perhaps he really wanted to be gone. Erik's job was over and Charles was now free, after all. Perhaps Charles was just being painfully polite.

But it was Charles who had checked that they were still friends, Charles who had come over. To say goodbye, admittedly, but he had still come over.

"Erik?" _Are you listening to me?_ Goes unsaid, but the hurt is plain enough.

"Of course Maus," and Charles' nose wrinkles and Erik wasn't quite sure what he had said wrong _now_. The only thing he knew was that _something_ was clearly wrong between them. He just wished he knew what.

"Is that it then? I'm just something to protect?" It made sense, then. When he had first met Charles he had been a shivering wreck, something that had to be protected and saved at all costs. Now Charles was longing for some confirmation that their friendship was equal, that Erik didn't think that he was still a child to be coddled.

"I suppose literally it could be taken as in an insult, but it is a genuine term of affection, and although if I had my way," _I would brutally murder anyone who laid a finger on you? I want to take you to some place where I could always keep you safe and I could treasure you?_ "nothing would ever hurt you again, I do not think that that is an unreasonable wish between friends. And I do know that, at full tilt, your power would beat mine, anyone's really, hands down."

"Thanks, and likewise. I don't want anybody to hurt you."

Perhaps, but he had still come here to say goodbye and thank you for a job well done.

…

And so it went, letters and long distance chess games. Erik heard of the Professor, a genius of Genetics. Raven never questioned his sudden and obsessive interest in the subject. Charles visited his sister but never him, though he was always included.

Then came the dream.

Usually Charles even in his first broken days staying with Raven was able to shield himself so that his dreams didn't bleed into others. The few times they had Charles had been mortified and apologised ceaselessly, but they had never been angry for Charles' slips. They had only made them more determined.

That night Erik visited the prison cell of his dream, a small memory and spark of consciousness reminding him that this was not _his_ dream. The prison cell was sickeningly familiar, he'd only seen it twice before but it was enough. Except this was different; it wasn't Charles tied and poked until he screamed. It was Erik.

Erik woke sweating, desperately trying to force his mind to distinguish fantasy from reality, the distant echo of _nonoErikpleasenothimno_ coming from the other room.

He splashed water on his face and robotically made himself some coffee. He didn't believe that what people dreamt about held any kind of insight into their minds. Dreams were the frazzled, nonsensical waste of the subconscious. Dreams might be based on memories as this nightmare was, but they were usually twisted barely recognisable versions of memories, as, indeed this was. Erik refused to believe that there was some meaning in the dream, after all, if you were to take a meaning, it might mean anything. Did Charles see himself as Erik? Did he want to be Erik? Did he feel protective of Erik? Did he want Erik to be tortured?

At any rate, he couldn't ponder on it any more because Charles was currently bursting into his apartment.

"Erik, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for the dream to bleed over like that, you know that, don't you? And that dream was just plain … wrong."

"So you don't want to see me tortured then?" Charles turned white, or at least, whiter.

"No! Of course not. I'd die if something like that happened to you!"

"Sorry Charles. Please, I didn't mean it. It was meant as a joke. I forgot I'm not very good at jokes, you should remind me more often."

"Your jokes are normally fine," Charles mumbled.

"Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"That you'd die if something happened to me?"

Charles didn't answer and began to look angry with himself and Erik, on some primal instinct that he didn't know he had, took Charles into his arms.

"We are friends, aren't we, Maus?" Charles nodded against his chest, "I think we should see each other more often then, as we're friends, we wouldn't make so many mistakes around each other if we knew each other better, don't you think?" Charles pulled away slightly and looked Erik in the eyes.

"I think I could used to that."

Erik was never quite sure of what happened next, though he was quite sure Charles' telepathy had something to do with it, not that he was accusing Charles of mind controlling him, which was what Charles thought when he first suggested it to him. Charles disagreed, and said it was love, and that if he had been using his telepathy they wouldn't have made a mess before hand and they would have got together much quicker. And by the way, damn his morals.

Erik compromised and said it might just have been a combination of the two, because whatever the feelings most first kisses are more bumping noses and fumbling hands than what happened there, which just happened to be perfection. And he would kill anybody who suggested he was getting sappy. He was only sappy around Charles, that was a very specific sappyness, and not sappy in general. There was a difference.

And so then Erik was presented with quite a conundrum. He was quite sure he could spend the rest of eternity kissing Charles, but he was also quite sure he could spend the rest of eternity just talking to Charles and finding out every single thing about him (and shouldn't they be doing some talking, really? Since they had only just started … whatever it was they were doing. They should probably clarify that sort of thing) but then there were hands and Erik's mind went blank. Except for the kissing. And the hands.

But then there was a knock at the door and an announcement that Charles' taxi was ready and Erik tried desperately to think of all sorts of amazing arguments as to why Charles shouldn't leave when Charles said, "I've seen your apartment, it's about time you saw mine, isn't it?"

Erik grinned. It seemed perfectly reasonable. Apart from the fact that he was never going to let go of his Maus again, he couldn't exactly ask Charles to move into his apartment with no notice. He was a professor; he couldn't just leave like that. He, however, could easily move shop.

Charles said a quick goodbye to Raven, and gave her a quick explanation (to which she looked completely unsurprised) and got in the taxi with Erik, along with a couple of bags with all the stuff he could shove it. He'd come back for the rest later. If it had been a film they would have driven into the sunset, but they didn't. They didn't mind, they weren't looking at the scenery.


End file.
